


We Only See Each Other at Arrests and Bails

by Icestorm238



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Extra Ordinary isn't out yet so they're all operating off childhood memories, Gen, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Substance Abuse, actually they're all a mess but they're trying, and are utterly incapable of figuring it out, because patch and beaman don't know diego's a hargreeves, klaus is a mess but what's new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-01-15 03:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icestorm238/pseuds/Icestorm238
Summary: aka the five times Diego picked up Klaus from the police station, and the one time Klaus picked up Diego.





	1. 1. Possession

Eudora Patch had been enjoying a perfectly lovely night shift with Beaman and a passed-out junkie when Diego Harris had burst through the door and ruined it.

Of course,  _ perfectly lovely _ actually equated to  _ perfectly shit,  _ because it was the night shift, and because she was trying to identify an unconscious man completely lacking in identification. The only highlight was Beaman, who was single-handedly keeping her sane with his company. So, to be fair to Diego, what he’d actually done was make a bad night worse, but Eudora wasn’t feeling fair at that particular moment, so  _ ruined  _ it was.

“Di-  _ Harris,” _ she says, fixing him with her patented glare, and he has the nerve to grin at her as if nothing had happened between them. “Why- what are you doing here?”

Beaman, lounging beside her with his feet on the desk, waves at Diego. Diego waves back. Eudora quickly shifts her opinion of her partner from  _ keeping me sane _ down to  _ traitor and part of the problem. _

“I’m just here to pick him up,” Diego says, gesturing at the unconscious man sprawled across three chairs opposite Eudora and Beaman. Their former friend hunches over, propping himself up via hands on legs, and Eudora is struck by the sudden realisation that he’d run here.

Another thought strikes. “How did you know he was here?” she asks.

“You know him?” Beaman throws out at the same time, which is also an incredibly good question given that Diego and the junkie look like they were born two worlds apart and never considered breaching that boundary.

Diego winks at her, and Eudora resists the urge to lunge out of her chair and punch the smugness off his stupid face. She resists - partly because that would be a victory for him and partly because she’s half-asleep in her seat and can’t be bothered to get up. “I have my ways,” he practically  _ sings _ despite still being out of breath, and Eudora reconsiders her attachment to her chair. “Can I take him?”

“No,” Eudora says, because screw Diego. “There’s procedure to follow. We need to formally identify him, charge him, and inform the next of kin.”

“Oh, come on, Eudora,” Diego says with a too-wide smile, willfully ignoring her resultant glare, “it was just possession, that’s nothing, you don’t need to charge him, right? Plus I can identify him for you  _ and _ I’m a next of kin, so that’s all three issues resolved.”

“Don’t call me-  _ how did you know that?”  _ She’s referring to his knowledge of the junkie’s crime, since there’s nothing in the vicinity that reveals it to be possession. Maybe he took a lucky guess. The guy  _ does  _ look like your typical junkie, and this is almost certainly standard fare for him.

Diego leans on the desk, resting his chin on his hand, still with a confident smirk plastered on. “Come on,” he says again, skirting around her very valid question. “Do it as a favour for your old friend?”

Eudora scowls and, comfort be damned, leans forward to lob the nearest projectile - a pen stamped with the department’s logo - at Diego’s head. He dodges with disappointing ease. “No,” she hisses, grabbing for a second pen that, annoyingly, also fails to hit when she throws it. “That’s all in blatant violation of the procedure, and-”

“Buy us both coffee and we’ll let him go with a warning,” Beaman interrupts, passing Eudora another pen.

She throws that one too. It, like its friends, doesn’t come close to hitting its target, which is a disgusting show from police equipment. She settles for intensifying her glare.

Unfazed, Diego raises a single eyebrow. “Is that legal?”

Honestly, Eudora is pretty sure it’s classed as bribery, but. They still have a couple of hours left of their shift. She’s exhausted, worn down and so, so done with all of this. The thought of coffee literally has her melting in her seat, so instead of arguing like she normally would, Eudora leans back, sighs, swallows her values, and says, “You heard the man. Coffee.”

Her asshole of an ex straightens, that piss-take of a smile somehow growing wider. “Coffee. Sure. I’ll be right back.” With that, he takes off, weaving through the rows of desks on his way to the exit.

Eudora is surprised at how easily he accepts, but she won’t complain if it results in precious, precious coffee.

“And pick those pens up off the floor when you’re done!” she calls after his retreating form as she realises that all the pens that were within reach have since been thrown, and she’s left with no writing utensils close at hand. Her only acknowledgement is a backhanded wave as he disappears out the door. The receptionist sends him a strange look from the safety of her desk, but she wisely doesn’t question it.

“Should we have told him about the coffee machine in the break room?” Beaman asks, watching through the windows as Diego jogs down the street.

Eudora grins, and doesn’t even feel all that bad about the spite she feels. “Nah. This’ll taste better, and has the added benefit of making him work for it.”

With no pens, Eudora cannot work, so she falls into a comfortable silence with her partner as they wait for Diego to return.

It is a silence that Beaman soon shatters. “So, how do you think he knows this guy?”

Eudora shrugs, allowing herself to spin her chair slightly - something she'd never normally do; she has standards to maintain. “Who knows. He said something about being next of kin, so maybe family?”

She isn't entirely convinced, and apparently neither is Beaman. “But they look nothing alike,” he protests, circling one hand in the air in the vague direction of their junkie. “Nothing!”

“Adoption exists, Beaman,” she scolds without bite, but looking at the still-unconscious man, with his soft curls and ashen skin and red-ringed eyes, Eudora struggles to find even the faintest trace of Diego in him. “Or maybe they're distant relatives.”

Beaman sends her a look that screams disbelief, and she shrugs again in return. “Very distant.”

A pause. They both look over their junkie once more. He twitches periodically, his face scrunching in discomfort, his frail form writhing on the chairs. The occasional whimper escapes him. Eudora supposes that’s what drugs do to a person. She honestly can’t imagine Diego associating with him, let alone being related.

Finally, from Beaman: “Five dollars says he’s a secret lover.”

“Beaman!” Eudora hisses, appalled. “We can't take bets on a friend's personal life!”

“Oh, Harris is a friend again now, is he? What happened to hating him?”

He’s laughing at her, the bastard, and she's saved from fumbling for a reply when the sound of the doors sliding open heralds Diego’s return.

“Coffee,” he announces proudly, with far to much cheer for one in the morning.

“You hero,” says Beaman, already reaching for the prize.

Eudora cannot help but moan as she takes her first glorious sip, all of her previous irritation gone in an instant. “God, yes.”

Diego bounces on the balls of his feet, endlessly energetic, and Eudora eyes him over the rim of her cup. At some point the pens had reappeared on her desk, although she’d been too preoccupied with her coffee to notice that happen. “Go on,” she sighs, waving to the junkie with the hand that isn’t occupied by coffee. “Take him.”

He instantly darts to the other man’s side, a concerned hand fluttering over his prone form. To Eudora’s surprise, Diego presses two fingers into the too-thin wrist in search of a pulse, even as the junkie jerks in his sleep. It’s worrying that Diego feels such an action is necessary. What he finds clearly soothes him, as he scoops the man up as if he weighs little more than air and slings him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Thanks,” Diego says, adjusting his grip with a tenderness she hasn’t seen from him before. “Seriously. I owe you both one.”

Beaman waves him away. “Get him home, Harris. Thanks for the coffee.”

He shoots them one last grin and is gone as quickly as he arrived, leaving Eudora and Beaman alone in the large, empty precinct with only each other, their coffee, and the absence of the junkie for company.

“Well,” Eudora says, cupping both hands around the steaming coffee. “That was an experience.”

“I stand by lover,” Beaman says as he sips his own drink. “Did you see how gentle he was?”

Eudora reaches across to hit him. “You can be gentle with your family!”

He laughs, ducking out of her range. “And you can be gentle with your lover!”

They both sigh - a mixture of exhaustion, contentment and relief - and slump into their seats. Diego has handled one problem for them, but they still have a few hours left for more to arise. The thought of  _ more  _ is torture enough, but for now Eudora is content to drink her coffee and ponder the weirdness of Diego and his mystery junkie and-

“Shit.”

Beaman pauses mid-sip to look at her, concern lining his expression. “What?”

“We didn’t get the junkie’s name.”

There’s silence for a moment while he considers this, and then he starts to laugh. “Shit,” he echoes. “Well, I guess we’re letting him off with even less than a warning.”

Eudora groans and lets her head fall into her arms.  _ “Shit.  _ This is so illegal. We just let a man go free because we were friends with a guy who claimed to know him and we’re going to get in so much trouble and lose our jobs and-”

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, Patch,” Beaman laughs. He is way too okay with their casual law-break for Eudora’s liking, and she lifts her head just far enough to glare at him over the top of her arms. “It’s fine, no-one needs to know, and it’s really not that big of a crime. Anyway, Harris will surely warn him for us, so did we really do anything wrong?”

“Yes,” Eudora says. “So much wrong.”

“Minimal wrongness,” he waves her off with. “And I get the feeling we’ll be seeing more of Diego’s secret lover anyway.”

Eudora groans again, re-burying her head into the folds of her sleeves. “God, I seriously hope not.”


	2. 2. Public Intoxication

Beaman was right. The junkie is back.

He’s conscious this time, and Eudora cannot tell whether this is a blessing or a curse. He’s conscious, but he’s no better at answering their questions than he was passed out over their chairs since he’s blindingly, stupefyingly, rip-roaringly  _ drunk. _

Loud. He’s also loud. Deafeningly so. He hasn’t shut up since he was brought in, alternating between cheering and crying, always at a volume equivalent to that of a foghorn. Eudora already had a vicious migraine at the start of the day; a caterwauling junkie is certainly not helping.

“If he doesn’t shut up,” she growls to Beaman as he returns from the toilets, her fingers rubbing angry circles into her temples, “I am going to kill him.”

Beaman pats her on the shoulder and he passes and settles into his chair. “I may beat you to it,” is his sympathetic response. “He’s driving me nuts.”

Laughter echoes from the holding cells, high-pitched and manic and excessively loud, and Eudora resists the urge to scream.

“Do you think we should call Harris?” Beaman ponders, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“If it speeds this whole stupid process up,” Eudora moans, “then God, yes. Anything.”

The junkie - although today he’s apparently converted to alcoholism - the junkie/alcoholic wails, the sound pervading all the way through to the body of the precinct and into the cracks of Eudora’s skull. It’s a morbid sound, tinged with euphoric agony and tormented glee. It makes Eudora want to wail along with him.

Beaman taps the pen against the desk once, twice. “I’ll do it,” he decides, reaching across to the phone. “If only to get some peace in here.”

“No need,” a voice rings from behind them, and Eudora and Beaman jump in unison and spin to face the newcomer. “I’m here.”

“Jesus,” Eudora gasps, a hand dashing to clutch at her chest. “Shit. What the hell, Harris?”

Diego shrugs, looking altogether far too pleased with himself. “Hey, Eudora, Beaman, good to see you both. Can I...” He trails off, gesturing in the general direction of the holding cells, and winces when another cry erupts from within.

“Oh God please-”

“No!” Eudora snaps, cutting Beaman off and slamming her hands on her desk. “You can’t just- just show up and take him away without him getting any consequences and without telling us how you knew he was here!”

Diego rolls his eyes, slumping into a chair opposite Beaman.  _ “God, yes. Anything,” _ he mimics in an irritating high-pitched tone that sounds nothing like Eudora. “What happened to wanting to pawn him off onto me? Here I am, ready and willing!”

“I want answers more!” She is even willing to ignore the pounding in her head in order to understand how the hell Diego knows when his  _ next of kin _ junkie/alcoholic has been arrested. Especially if she can drill some respect for the legal system into that thick mass of muscle he calls a brain, although she isn’t holding out hope on that front.

Beaman leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk and interlocking his fingers like he’s some kind of James Bond villain. “That guy’s name would be a good start.”

Diego blinks at them as another howl fills the room, seeming legitimately startled for a moment. “Wait, you don’t- oh.” He huffs a laugh, and Eudora allows herself the pleasure of curling her hand into a fist and imagining implanting it neatly into Diego’s cocky smirk. “I guess I never told you last time. Oops.”

_ “Yes,  _ oops,” Eudora hisses. “So, name?”

“Klaus,” Diego says, not seeming to care about the implications of their prior inability to charge (or, in that case, warn) the man of anything. “Klaus Hargreeves.”

He seems reluctant to add the surname, and it only takes a moment of wondering why for Beaman to jolt and yell, “Wait, shit,  _ Hargreeves, _ like the umbrella?”

Eudora stares at him, attempting to unravel the nonsensicalities of that question as he curves his hands into what she assumes is supposed to be an umbrella. It apparently means something to Diego, who grimaces and says, “I guess it was too much to hope that you two wouldn’t know.”

He glances around as he speaks, as if checking to make sure that Beaman’s outburst hasn’t drawn too much attention. It hasn’t: most of the officers are desensitised to loud noises thanks to the junkie-alcoholic- _ Klaus-Hargreeves’  _ endless cacophony. Said man lets out another angry screech, as if to drill that point home.

“Dude,” Beaman breathes, awed by something that still hasn’t clicked into place for Eudora. “I was obsessed with them when I was a kid. I had, like, all the merch. My room was a shrine. I cried for days when Number Six died. I still think it should be made into, like, a national day of mourning, or whatever. And  _ he’s  _ one of them?!”

Diego shifts in his seat, an odd expression settling on his face. “Yeah, he is,” he says, and the discomfort in his tone is almost palpable.

The use of the number finally knocks something into place, and Eudora gasps in realisation. “Oh Christ, he’s one of the Umbrella Academy?!”

Diego sighs and shoots her a weak smile. “You a fan too, then?”

“No,” she answers too quickly, and Diego and Beaman send her twin looks of disbelief. “Okay, I guess I thought they were cool.” When they don’t stop watching her, she adds, “And I may have had a poster or two.”

Or six, but they don’t need to know that. “Which one was- is he?” she asks to shift the conversation on, because while she  _ was  _ a fan, it’s been a good few years since then. The name  _ Klaus  _ is definitely familiar, but his power escapes her.

“Number Four,” Diego says after a moment of internal debate, his face twisted as if using the number physically hurts him. “He can see the dead.”

Eudora has so many questions, but Diego looks about as willing to share details as a cat is to enter water, so she restrains herself.

(Even though that’s the power little Eudora had always thought was the coolest - because what could be of more value to a police officer than being able to talk with deceased victims? It’s inappropriate to gush, though, and Diego is clearly reluctant, so she forces down the desire and moves on.)

“Right,” she says eventually, wincing slightly (from a mixture of migraine, manic junkie/alcoholic laughter and how forced that singular word was). “Okay. That’s.. that’s great, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been arrested for good reason.”

Diego rolls his eyes for the second time that day and leans forward. Eudora thinks he looks grateful to change topic. He must really be close to Klaus to be so affected by the other man’s past. “Okay, okay. Public intoxication, right? So what did he actually  _ do  _ that was so worthy of punishment?”

Eudora narrows her eyes, resisting the urge to grab Diego by the collar and shake a proper answer out of him.  _ How did he know that?  _ “He was intoxicated. Publically.”

“More importantly,” Beaman adds, ignoring Diego’s mutter of  _ very helpful, _ “he threw up all over my nice clean shirt.”

Grinning, Diego reaches across to pat Beaman on his fresh, recently-donned shirt’s shoulder. “Very tragic,” he agrees, “but the law states that he can be released once you lot think he’s safe to look after himself.”

“My shirt doesn’t think he’s safe,” Beaman grumbles. He goes ignored.

Eudora crosses her arms. “He’s not. He stays.”

She would probably let him go if it was anyone other than Diego asking, but Eudora is stubborn and biased and already kind of regretting it because Klaus still won’t  _ shut up. _

The man has an incredible power - to see the dead! - and yet this is what he does with it - getting high, or wasted, or both (probably both, honestly). Eudora cannot understand that.

“Isn’t this a waste of police resources?” Diego asks with a raised eyebrow, and damn it, that’s a fair point. The resounding laughter seems to increase in volume, which Eudora didn’t think was possible, and, yeah, Eudora’s definitely wishing she wasn’t so stubborn, or that Diego wasn’t so  _ Diego  _ and doing this to her.

The man across from her sighs audibly, oblivious to her internal conflict. “Fine. What if I buy you both coffee again, would you let him go then?”

“Well, I could be tempted-”

“Jesus, Harris, no, that’s definitely bribery!” Eudora says, shooting Beaman a warning glare through her fingers as she presses them back into her thumping temples. She pauses for a long moment, one where she thinks her skull might burst from the pain Klaus’ yelling is causing, and then, finally, she groans. “God, fine, please take him. You know the way.”

She refuses to look at Diego as she concedes, but she can envisage his splitting grin regardless. “Thanks, Eudora,” he says, and he sounds so damn genuine that it takes all of Eudora’s strength not to reply in kind. She hears him rise from his chair and depart, his feet tapping a strangely familiar rhythm into the cold tiles.

Within minutes the shouting from the holding cells morphs into actual words, although they are so heavily slurred that they’re incoherent to Eudora. She doesn’t waste her time deciphering. It isn’t long before Diego is back, and Eudora looks up long enough to see Klaus  _ Hargreeves, Number Four, he didn’t age well  _ slumped into Diego’s hold.

“Thanks,” Diego says again as Klaus giggles into his shoulder, and Eudora waves him off.

“Have fun,” Beaman says. “Try to not get thrown up on.”

“I make no promises, given how he is,” Diego sighs, adjusting his grip on the former superhero that is apparently his next of kin, and with that, he is gone, and the precinct is quieter than it has been in hours.

Naturally, Beaman decides to break the blessed peace (but not silence, rarely ever silence) immediately. “I cannot believe that was Klaus Hargreeves,” he mutters under his breath, tapping his pen rapidly on the desk. “Do you think Harris knows all of them? Do you think he could get me autographs?  _ Do you think he knows Allison Hargreeves?” _

“I should have taken that coffee,” Eudora mumbles to herself, fingers firmly replanting themselves in her temples as she ignores her partner. “Given that we let him go anyway.”

“Hell yeah you should,” Beaman says, and though she’s not looking at him she can almost see the glare he’s probably sending her. “Coffee would have made the whole vomiting incident almost worth it.” He thinks about this for a moment, then amends, “No, actually, it wouldn’t have, but it would’ve made me feel a bit better about it.”

The precinct is too quiet without Klaus’ endless noise, despite the bustle of the other officers, and Eudora swears she can still hear the faintest echoes of screams. “You can worm coffee out of Harris the next time Klaus is arrested. Fair?”

“I suppose,” Beaman sighs. “He almost certainly will be back, after all. We’ve got to see how this tragic love affair ends.”

Eudora doesn’t see how it’s tragic, and she still isn’t convinced that it’s a love affair, but she sighs regardless and says, “Sure, whatever. Love affair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent an unhealthy amount of time on the wikipedia page on public intoxication for this and ended up twisting California's laws to suit my own purposes


	3. 3. Possession with Intent to Supply

“Hey, Patch, apparently the system couldn’t process Klaus Hargreeves’ previous arrests.”

Eudora groans. Isn’t that a wonderful start to the day. She shifts to face Beaman, letting her exasperation show on her face. “Dare I ask why?”

Beaman peers at his monitor. “Uh, it seems to be because he doesn’t exist.”

Of all the replies Eudora had expected, that was not one of them. She rolls her chair over to Beaman, leaning over his shoulder to take a look at his computer screen. “That doesn’t make sense.”

It’s true: Beaman has punched the name into the search bar and no matches have been found. Her first thought is that Diego lied, but she dismisses it just as quickly as she thought it; as much as Diego infuriates her, she doesn’t think he would have lied about something like this.

Anyway, even if Diego had lied, the arrests should still have processed. They just would have been about the wrong person.

“Klaus Hargreeves definitely exists,” Beaman says, voicing Eudora’s own thoughts. “The whole world’s heard of him.”

“That’s pushing it,” Eudora mutters, staring intensely at the screen as if that’ll change the information it displays. “Definitely this one city, and probably a good chunk of America, but I’d draw the line at _the whole world.”_

He pouts at her - actually full-on pouts. “That’s not how a fan of theirs should talk.”

“I was not that big of a fan,” she insists, pulling away and returning to the files she’d barely begun to sift through - today is already a busy day and it’s only ten thirty; they don’t have hours to spend discussing the intricacies of the Umbrella Academy fanbase.

Beaman stares at the blank screen for a moment more before stabbing furiously at the keyboard. “I’ll try searching just the surname,” he says, and then, after a second, falls quiet. “Oh.”

Intrigued by that unusual reaction, Eudora drags herself back over. “What is it- _oh.”_

There are eight people registered under the surname Hargreeves. One is Reginald, who, if Eudora’s childhood _(not-)_ obsession serves, was the father and founder of the child superhero squad. One is Allison, and Eudora doesn’t need a past interest to recognise that name. The other six-

“They’re numbers,” Beaman breathes.

The confusion and horror melding into his tone match the emotions rising in Eudora. “Shit,” she says, for lack of a better response. _“Shit.”_

They look at the disturbing details - the lovely list of _Allison Five Four One Reginald Seven Six Two._ Eudora isn’t sure if the alphabetised list, with the innocuous _Reginald_ chilling in the middle, makes it better or worse. Either way, it isn’t pretty.

Eventually, Beaman breaks the horrified silence. “Hey, were there always…” He trails off, gesturing at the screen and grimacing, and everything about the action screams regret, like he knows this isn’t the time to ask his question but doesn’t know what else _to_ say. “...seven?”

Eudora blinks - at the screen, at Beaman, back at the screen. “Um,” she says eloquently, “I… don’t think so, actually.”

One Two Three Four Five Six. Five’s disappearance had been one of the greatest mysteries of its time, and Six’s _(Ben’s, she should use their names, did Five even have a name?)_ death had sparked weeks of outcry and heartbreak. Six then five then four, but Eudora doesn’t ever remember a Seven.

“Is Seven still alive?” she asks, thinking that maybe they died before the Umbrella Academy kicked off, and Beaman pulls up the profile. Seven _is_ alive, dashing that theory, and is female, which only reinforces Eudora’s belief that no, Seven had never existed - at least, hadn’t existed publically, because-

“Allison was the only girl,” Beaman says. “I’m certain of that.”

“Then who the hell is this mysterious seventh?” Beaman can’t answer, shrugging helplessly, so Eudora continues, “And speaking of Allison, why isn’t she a number?”

 _(It’s such a messed up thing to say,_ why isn’t this person a number, _and Eudora cannot believe she’s found herself in a situation where it’s an appropriate question.)_

“The other num- the others must be the Umbrella kids, so what about her?”

Beaman hums, tapping the edge of his keyboard. “There isn’t a Three,” he observes. “She must have gotten her name changed. I suppose it’d be a bit awkward if it got out that the famous Allison Hargreeves, the nation’s sweetheart, was legally nothing more than a number.”

They drift back into silence, playing the discovery over and over in their minds. Eudora is genuinely disgusted by it. At the height of their fame, the Umbrella kids had been known by their numbers almost more than by their names, and all that time they’d never truly _had_ names. The world must have been steadily twisting that knife further and further without knowing.

Then again, did the kids know that their names weren’t actually their names? Did they care? Did they prefer the numbers?

And who was responsible for this? She’d never thought about it when she was younger, content to accept superheroes her age as _cool,_ but with hindsight it was all more than a bit messed up. The father - _Reginald,_ one normal name amid a sea of digits - what had he been thinking?

The twist in Diego’s expression when he’d called Klaus _Number Four_ makes a lot more sense now. She doesn’t know Klaus’ opinion on the matter, but she knows his _next of kin’s,_ and it’s certainly not approval.

Beaman sighs. Hadn’t he called the dead one by his number the last time Diego was here? “I guess Klaus is Four, going by what Harris told us.”

“Oh, I guess I should have warned you about that.”

Eudora doesn’t scream - she has her professionalism to maintain - but she does jolt in her seat as the voice breaks through the sombre cloud that has settled over her and her partner. She spins, spying Beaman doing the same to her left, to find Diego leaning over a desk to squint at Beaman’s monitor.

“Harris,” she gasps. “Jesus. You have got to stop doing that.”

He sends her a sly grin formed at the corner of his mouth, and already she’s repressing the urge to scowl. “Hi.”

Beaman points at the list of numbers _(names)_ in lieu of a greeting. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah,” Diego sighs. “It’s messed up.”

His previous discomfort is back, and Eudora gets the feeling it will always show up when talking about Klaus’ connection to the Umbrella Academy, so she moves on. “Why are you even here?”

Diego tilts his head, bemused. “For… for the usual reason? Why else would I be here?”

It takes a moment to click. “...wait, Klaus is here?”

“You weren’t aware?”

“Uh, hold on,” Beaman says, twisting back to his computer. “What’s he in for?”

Eudora is about to say something along the lines of _how is Harris supposed to know,_ then she remembers that it’s Diego Harris, and he somehow always seems to know, so she stays quiet.

Sure enough: “Possession… with intent to supply.”

“Oh boy, that’s an upgrade,” Beaman mutters under his breath, pulling up the records. “Yeah, he’s in holding. You wanna go grab him?”

“Can I?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” Eudora interjects before the situation can spiral too far out of hand. “You can’t keep waltzing in here and taking him. We have laws for a reason.”

“You keep saying this,” Diego hums, “and letting me take him anyway.”

The worst part is that he’s right. “You’re not helping your chances by antagonising me,” she snaps, because her other option is accepting her fault. Maybe if it wasn’t Diego, she would.

“Look, I get it,” Diego says, moving around the desk and resting his weight against it. “Possession with intent is a lot more serious. Can I at least go talk to him?”

Eudora goes to respond, but Beaman beats her to it. “Sure,” he says, staring intently at his monitor. “Go. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Beaman!” Eudora hisses, because they really cannot keep showing favouritism like this, it’s _illegal_.

Diego shoots the man a small smile. “Thanks,” he says, and disappears towards the holding cells.

“Don’t bother lecturing me,” Beaman says before Eudora can start lecturing him, and she lets her mouth snap shut. “This evidence is flimsy as shit; it’ll take no effort to knock the charge down to possession. I’m pretty sure he didn’t actually have any intent. It’s technically more legal to help them out.”

She swallows. “Right. Okay. You do that. I’ll go…” she gestures in the general direction of the holding cells. “...make sure Harris isn’t busting Klaus out, or. Whatever.”

She leaves him as he reaches for the phone and follows Diego, arriving just as the man lowers his head to talk to his _next of kin_ (and she really isn’t sure if she believes that, but it’s not as though she has a better label for their relationship).

“You have to take this seriously, Klaus,” he is saying, quietly, as if he has something to hide. Eudora subconsciously comes to a stop. “Intent carries far steeper penalties than just possession.”

“That’s bullshit,” Klaus scoffs. “I had no intent.”

The junkie is apparently sober enough today to make lucid conversation. Eudora supposes that having his drugs confiscated before he could make use of them would have helped in that matter.

Diego wraps a hand around one of the bars, squeezing it tightly enough that Eudora can see the veins pulsate a stark blue against the backdrop of his dark skin. “It doesn’t matter! If they have enough evidence then you’ll go down for it. Do you know what the maximum penalty for intent is, Klaus? Life! You could do life for this!”

Klaus _(Four,_ her mind supplies, unbidden) is relaxing against the bars, seemingly unbothered by his predicament. His fur coat dwarfs his tiny frame, his thin bones barely poking out from amid the mass of fabric, and Eudora feels a sudden, instinctive concern for this frail man’s health. “What doesn’t matter, Diego dearest, is the threat of life imprisonment, because I’m going to co-operate like a good little Catholic boy and get the lightest possible penalty.” He frowns, considers. “Well, maybe not the _lightest_ penalty. Probably second lightest, or third, or sixth. Maybe tenth. You know how it is.”

“You’re not Catholic.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Or _good.”_

“I’m a good enough actor.” He demonstrates this by politely informing the empty air to his right to shut the hell up. Eudora wonders if she should be concerned by that display, but Diego seems unfazed, so she lets it pass without comment.

Instead she steps forward, making her presence known. “Um, Beaman says there’s barely any evidence of intent, so he can probably work it down to just possession. That’ll mean a fine, but-” she shrugs- “it’s an improvement.”

She’s fairly sure he’ll be able to pay it, given that his sister is a movie star and his father is a billionaire, so _improvement_ is a bit of an understatement.

The look of pure relief Diego sends her is almost enough to melt her heart. “Thank you,” he says, utterly sincere. He seems to have an endless supply of gratitude when it comes to Klaus. Eudora has to wonder where the hell Klaus has been in all the time she’s known Diego; it’s only since they’d split apart that she’s met this man he clearly cares about. It’s… strange.

“Yeah!” Klaus says, shifting his focus from the glare he’d been aiming at the walls of his cell over to Eudora and Diego. “Just because I had a shitload of drugs on me, they thought I was the dealer. Bullshit. Why deal when you can use?”

He flinches then - at what, Eudora doesn’t know - and scowls at the floor. Diego still seems unbothered by Klaus’ strange actions, having wound a hand through the bars to circle Klaus’ wrist, so Eudora decides to also ignore it. “You… might not want to say things like that in a police station,” is what she does say, but Klaus doesn’t seem to care.

Beaman takes this opportunity to appear at the top of the steps. “Done!” he announces proudly. “I spoke to the officer who brought you in. We’re good friends. She was already doubting the whole _intent_ thing and was perfectly happy to bump it down.”

Diego grins at him. “Remind me to buy you coffee sometime as thanks.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He descends the steps and turns to address Klaus. “You’re free to go, but there will be a fine to pay.”

“Can I get my drugs back?” Klaus asks as Eudora moves to unlock his cell. “I was so excited about getting hilariously stoned, you see. It would’ve been the highlight of my day.”

Eudora fixes him with a cold stare, ignoring the way he twitches. “No.”

The door swings open and Klaus saunters out. Diego has to grab his arm to stop him waltzing out without another word, and Klaus pouts at him for it. “I think you have something to say to the _nice detectives,”_ Diego says, stressing the last syllables.

Klaus sticks his tongue out at Diego. “Thank you both, my heroes, my saviours,” he says anyway, throwing in an exaggerated bow for good measure.

“It’s nothing,” Beaman answers for them both, “but before you go - how exactly do you know each other? _Next of kin_ is a bit vague.”

Oh, Eudora has never been so glad to have Beaman. By asking, he’s saved her from having to take the plunge and ask it herself.

Diego hesitates. “He’s… he’s a friend,” he settles for, shooting a guilty sideways glance at Klaus that stops it from being even remotely believable.

“Diego, dearest, you wound me!” Klaus gasps, a hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “A _friend,_ you say, as if there is not so much more between us!”

Diego rolls his eyes, and Eudora is seriously starting to consider the _lovers_ route. “Shut it, you. Come on.” To Eudora and Beaman (but mainly Beaman, she notes) he adds, “Thanks again. I really owe you for this.”

“Remember the coffee,” is Beaman’s casual reply. Eudora settles for an awkward nod.

The two disappear up the steps, and Eudora catches the beginnings of an argument as Diego says, “You have got to stop with the drugs.” She misses Klaus’ reply when Beaman excitedly grabs her shoulder.

“ _A friend_ is not close enough to make next of kin,” he hisses as they move to follow and make their way back to their desks. “And Klaus has, like, a million siblings that would be more logical choices. They are so definitely lovers, and you are going to owe me big time when Harris finally admits it.”

“Hey, hold on, we never officially made a bet,” Eudora complains, making sure to keep her voice down. “And at this point, I’m inclined to agree with you. There is no way Harris was telling the truth there.”

“Lovers,” Beaman says. “One hundred percent.” After a moment he asks, “Should we add a fine on for the first possession charge? It’s the law-abiding thing to do.”

Eudora considers, but not for long. “Don’t bother. Mark it as a warning, like we said we would.”

If they’re going to keep bending the rules for Diego and Klaus, they might as well go all out, right?


	4. 4. Disturbing the Peace

“So,” Beaman says, spinning in his seat to face Eudora directly, wry smile stuck on his face to emphasise how much this situation  _ sucks.  _ “How are we going to break it to Harris that we can’t just let Klaus go this time?”

“With any luck,” Eudora grumbles, stabbing at her paperwork with her pen, “he’ll figure it out for himself and save us from the awkwardness. Or he’ll save the trip until tomorrow and give us more time to plan for it.”

Beaman’s only reply is a strained laugh.

This is one of the worst parts of the job: the guilt. Sometimes the law decrees that a person go down for a crime when morality states they don’t deserve to. In this case, the morality is their - not friendship, Harris is too irritating for friendship -  _ acquaintanceship  _ with Diego Harris, and the law is coming down hard on Klaus Hargreeves.

The two at fault are in separate cells, shoved as far apart as the precinct’s size allowed for. Somehow they’re still managing to scream obscenities at each other, obscenities that are only slightly muffled by the distance. Eudora feels sorry for those down in the holding cells with them.

“Every time he has to go and up the charges,” Beaman sighs. “Possession to public intoxication to possession with intent to disturbing the peace. What’s next, arson? Manslaughter?  _ Murder?” _

“He doesn’t seem the type for killing,” Eudora says, “so hopefully not. That would be incredibly difficult to break to Harris.”

Arson, she isn’t so sure of. Klaus seems to be an unpredictable livewire. And, hold on, didn’t the Umbrella Academy kill people? Eudora swears she remembers news stories about men ripped in half, or with their heads found on the other side of the room to the rest of their bodies, or with bullets from their own guns implanted in their chests. It was rather contentious, if she recalls correctly. So, maybe Klaus  _ would _ stoop to murder. It’s not as if Eudora knows the man.

Would Diego associate with a killer? His morals are skewed, certainly, but not in matters as serious as life and death. It’s the small things Diego is guilty of - tampering with evidence and disrupting crime scenes and talking Eudora and Beaman out of giving Klaus more serious penalties for his crimes. Not murder. Probably.

Diego is stressful. Klaus, too. Eudora needs a drink before she deals with this.

She doesn’t have that luxury, however, partly because she’s at work and partly because she spies Diego entering the precinct from over Beaman’s bent head. She groans. “Here we go.”

“Eudora! Beaman!” the man calls as he approaches. “My two favourite cops! I come bearing gifts, oh dear friends of mine.”

His  _ gifts  _ are coffee, a cup in each hand, which he extends to Eudora and Beaman respectively.

“You saint,” Beaman moans, accepting with a grateful tenderness.

Diego grins. “I did promise you coffee.”

Eudora takes a tentative sip. It’s the good stuff from the place a couple of blocks away. She almost melts at the taste -  _ almost  _ \- but she’s not foolish enough not to recognise the offering for what it truly is. “Thanks,” she says sincerely, “but this won’t work as a bribe.”

He nods and sighs, resignation clear on his face. “Yeah, I figured, but hey, worth a shot, right?”

An expletive-ridden string of insults rises from the holding cells. Some of them, Eudora is intimately familiar with from her time on the force. Others are new, which doesn’t happen often.

Diego raises a single eyebrow. “At least he’s having fun.”

“He won’t be having fun in prison,” Beaman says, which is a harsh way to break the news, but at least he’s gotten it over with, like ripping a knife from a stab wound. Over quickly, and the pain will fade with time (or will cause a slow, painful death, so perhaps not the best analogy Eudora’s ever come up with, but her point still stands).

“That bad, huh?” Diego says with a wince. “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

“Sorry,” Eudora says, “but it can’t be helped. You know what he’s accused of, right?”

Someday she intends to ask Diego how he always knows, but today is not that day, not when Klaus is heading for prison and Diego’s face is falling further every second as that fact sinks in. “Disturbing the peace is a vague charge,” he shrugs despondently. “I was hoping it was something minor, like shouting, or swearing. Standard Klaus fare.” He pauses, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “What exactly  _ did _ he do?”

Eudora and Beaman share a glance, one that squashes an entire argument about who should tell him into a brief second. “He started a fight in the street,” Eudora says, taking on the burden since Beaman was the one to break the news about the impending imprisonment. “Smashed a guy’s face in.”

“The other guy got a hit or two in,” Beaman adds, “but Klaus did far more damage.”

“From witness testimony it seems that Klaus was provoked, which will help limit his sentence,” Eudora offers in an attempt at comfort.

Diego smiles sadly. “That’s something, I guess,” he says, not seeming remotely comforted. “I’ll go, I don’t know, try and knock some sense into that mess he calls a mind.”

He’s not asking if he can go visit the man. He’s stating that he will. Diego has really gotten comfortable with visiting the station for Klaus. Eudora offers him a weak smile. “If you can get him to stop yelling then I think it’ll be our turn to buy you coffee,” she says in a poor attempt at lightening the mood. “I’ll come with you, actually. It’s impossible to work with that racket. I’ll try and shut the other guy up.”

She’s not tagging along because the mysteries of Diego and Klaus are strangely compelling. No, she’s genuinely going to stop the tirade of insults.

The look Beaman sends her shows he doesn’t believe that, and simultaneously manages to scream  _ fill me in later.  _ Eudora does her best to promise that she will with just her eyes. They are both far too invested in this whole thing - maybe Eudora should be concerned by that.

She walks in awkward silence with Diego to the holding cells, punctuated only by the rhythm the soles of their shoes pound into the tiled floor, and the sound of Diego twirling a knife. Eudora should probably tell him to stop or confiscate the weapon, but she doesn’t have the heart, not when the repetitive motion seems like the only thing preventing Diego from spiralling into depression. The evening light that pervades through the precinct casts his melancholy expression in an orange glow, only exacerbating his misery.

When they reach the cells, Diego makes a beeline straight for Klaus, who is quite literally clawing at the bars in an effort to reach the man he’d attacked. Eudora leaves him to it, heading on her own mission to stop the other guy from screaming back.

“Hey,” she says. “Stop it.” The man, predictably, ignores her. 

“Klaus,” Diego says behind her, “what were you- Klaus, stop yelling for a second and- Klaus!”

Her own man is shouting something about boyfriends coming to the rescue, but Eudora is trying too hard not to listen to take it in properly. Instead she slams her hand against the bars. “Shut up!” she yells. “The more you yell, the less chance you have of reducing your charges!”

Diego sends her a concerned glance, realising that if what she says is true then Klaus is screwed. Luckily for him she’s mostly bullshitting. It works, though; the man snaps his mouth shut, sending Klaus one last glare before turning his back.

That allows her to fully tune in to Diego and Klaus. “Let me out of here, Diego!” the latter is screeching, still throwing himself at the bars of his cell. “I’ll kill him!”

Well, that’s not assuaging Eudora’s earlier fears about Klaus’ murderous tendencies. Nor is it convincing Diego to free him (not that he could even if he wanted to, so Klaus really isn’t doing himself any favours).

“Whoa whoa whoa-  _ Klaus-”  _ Diego says, reaching through with both hands to grab Klaus’ wrists in an iron vice and force him to still. Miraculously, to both Diego and Eudora’s surprise, it works. “Klaus, what the hell?”

“I’ll kill him,” Klaus says again, his eyes burning with unrestrained fury, gaze resting somewhere past Diego on the far wall.

“Yeah, you said. What the hell did he do? This isn’t like you, Klaus, you don’t  _ do this.”  _ Diego scowls at the other man’s still-turned back in an act of support. Eudora gives him a careful glance, a  _ don’t push too far, don’t get yourself arrested too. _

Klaus laughs, high-pitched and maniacal and crazed. “Oh, don’t I? What happened to the childhood of beating people up? I did this _ then _ , didn’t I?”

“You never enjoyed that,” Diego says,  You’re not a fighter, Klaus. Not at heart. You never have been.”

He must have loosened his grip slightly, enough for Klaus to wave his left arm in a dismissive gesture. “Well, that bastard had to bring the past into it.”

The action causes the sleeve of Klaus’ coat to fall down, revealing a faded umbrella printed on his inner arm. Diego’s eyes lock onto it. “He recognised you?”

“He recognised  _ this,”  _ Klaus spits, jerking his head at the tattoo. “Don’t think he figured out which one I was.”

The tattoo is definitely old - Eudora’s seen enough tattoos to recognise the way they decay with time. Klaus has fresher; the  _ Hello  _ and  _ Goodbye  _ on his hands are far more pronounced than the umbrella, and seem far more  _ Klaus  _ than the symbol of his childhood fame.

Then again, maybe Klaus wanted that memory of his superhero life, even as his disgruntled attitude suggests otherwise.

Eudora has seen that tattoo before, though. She’s fairly sure she remembers seeing it imprinted on the exact same location on Allison Hargreeves’ arm, equally faded, equally unloved.

So maybe the Umbrella Academy got them together before they split apart. One last ode to old times.

Or maybe (more likely) they got them younger, unwillingly, and have since done their best to forget about them.

The more Eudora hears about Reginald Hargreeves, the more she’d like to grace his face with her fist.

“That’s not an excuse,” Diego says as the other man stays thankfully quiet. Eudora maintains her distance and watches the scene unfold. “It was a dick move on his part, sure,” and the man beside Eudora bristles, “but I still don’t understand why you attacked him for that.” After a pause, he adds, with a wry grin, “That’s the way I’d react. You, I’d expect to run away.”

Klaus returns the grin, acknowledging the truth in Diego’s statement. “Yeah, well, maybe this time I decided to be more like you.” His eyes drift to the left as he speaks, and an odd expression, one Eudora can’t define, flickers across his face.

“Or,” the man Klaus attacked pipes up, and Eudora, Diego and Klaus all tense, “maybe what happened is that he got all pissy when I brought up little Number Six.”

Klaus launches himself at the bars again, and this time Diego doesn’t try to stop him. “You shut your fucking mouth, you-”

“You did what.” It’s not a question. Diego’s tone is icy cold, his stare level and penetrating, his face lined with raw anger, anger on a level Eudora has rarely seen from him.

Number Six. Ben.

Five missing, Six dead, Seven a mystery. Four left at the end.

Six- Ben-  _ dead. _

Wow. Eudora no longer doubts that Klaus was provoked, no longer blames him for attacking, because  _ damn  _ that’s a low blow.

“Number Six, the horror, the  _ freak. _ We’re better off with him dead,” the man continues, either oblivious to the growing anger in the room, or relishing in it. “The bastard deserved it-”

He cuts off with a laugh as Diego lunges forward. Eudora dives to catch him. “Whoa, Diego, no!”

“Let me at him,” he snarls, writhing in Eudora’s grip. Somehow she manages to hold on.

Klaus is still howling, and the other man has returned to his taunts and Diego won’t stop struggling and Eudora really wants to join him in beating the bastard up, but. Someone has to stay calm. “Don’t land yourself in prison too,” she hisses instead, leaning close to do so. “That’s what he wants!”

Thankfully, Diego seems to see the sense in this and goes limp in Eudora’s arms. She doesn’t release him immediately, wary of him jerking forward once she drops her guard, but he doesn’t, so she tentatively lets go.

“Calm Klaus down,” she murmurs. “I’ll take this one up for questioning, get him out of your way.”

Diego nods, accepting this. “Don’t attack him once he’s out of the cell,” Eudora adds in a cautionary tone, because Diego absolutely would. He accepts this too, having thankfully gone numb to the man’s insistent taunting (which even Eudora is struggling to do), and moves over to Klaus. “Hey, buddy,” he says, softening his voice, although Eudora can still make out the residual anger lying dormant. “He’s not worth our time.”

Eudora tunes them out. “You,” she says, turning to the other man. “shut up.” As she moves to unlock his cell she gets a good look at his face. A bruise, already purpling, stains his lower jaw. Blood spills from a cut on his forehead, blazing a red trail down the side of his face. His eye is mottled and black. This asshole may have won the war of words, but there’s a clear victor on the physical side of things, and it wasn’t him. Eudora gets a grim satisfaction out of that, at least.

She pulls him out of the cell, not bothering to be gentle. Klaus is sobbing into Diego’s shoulders through the bars of his own cell. Diego has a hand on the back of his friend’s head, pulling him in tight and maximising their contact. Their eyes meet, briefly, and Eudora can see the gratitude in them (and still, of course, the rage). This moment seems private, tender, so she leaves quickly, dragging the attacker with her.

“Hey,” Beaman says as she returns to him, sending the newcomer a curious glance. “How’d it go?”

“How do you feel about a quick questioning?” Eudora offers as an answer, her fingers carving into the man’s arm. 

The anger in her tone - lesser than Diego and Klaus’, but anger nonetheless - is enough to clue Beaman in. “Yeah,” he says, dropping his pen and standing with a grim smile. “Sure. Let’s go.”

It is a full hour later, after Eudora and Beaman have finished their interrogation, sent the man on his way, and are packing up for the day, that Diego emerges from the cells.

“Hi,” Eudora says, cautious, because Diego looks like the tiniest tap would shatter him. “How- how are you both?”

Diego smiles, tense and reserved and pained. She’s never seen him look so fragile. “We’ll be okay. Ben’s always been a sore point, ever since- yeah.” He looks tired, and so weary, and Eudora wants to tell him that an explanation isn’t required but is terrified he’ll crack if she interrupts. “For all of us, but Klaus especially. They were always close. I think Klaus took it the hardest.”

_ All of us _ is an interesting way of phrasing it: including himself. Some of his earlier statements had also implied that Diego had been a part of Klaus’ childhood. Maybe he’d been a friend of the Umbrella kids, growing up with them in a way that other kids could only have dreamed of?

It’s not the time for theorising, though, so Eudora sends Diego her best sympathetic smile. “We have plenty to charge that other guy with. He won’t get away with this.”

He nods. “Thanks. Seriously. Can-” He breaks off, swallows, continues, “Can I come back tomorrow and visit?”

“Of course,” Beaman says. He’d missed the events that unfolded down in the holding cells, but the interrogation had provided enough detail for Beaman to get the picture. “We released the other man on bail, so Klaus won’t have to deal with him all night.”

“Thanks,” Diego says again. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. “I’ll see you both tomorrow then, I guess.”

With that, he is gone, slowly, as if forcing himself to go. It’s strange to see him leave without Klaus. It feels  _ wrong. _

“So,” Beaman says, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “In the half hour or so until we go home, shall we discuss how high we can ramp up Mr Totally Deserved It’s charges, and how far we can lower Klaus’?”

Eudora grins. “Oh yes, we absolutely shall.” 

It’s the least they can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Ben standing off to the side throughout this chapter, very uncomfortable, but wishing his brothers wouldn't get in trouble on his behalf :')


	5. 5. Solicitation

Steam rises in steady waves from the cup of coffee resting on Eudora’s desk. It’s a mesmerizing distraction from her work, one her eyes keep drifting to, although that might also have something to do with her not wanting to do any work right now.

“How much longer do you think we’ll have to wait?” Beaman asks, slumped over his own desk with his chin resting on his hand. He’s long since abandoned working, favouring watching people come and go from the precinct in search of their friend.

Eudora sighs and forces her gaze back down to her paperwork. “Not long, knowing Harris.”

Beaman echoes her sigh. “I was looking at options earlier. We can offer Klaus rehab instead of a fine or prison, as long as he doesn't bail halfway through.”

“It’s not the punishment I’m worried about this time.”

He nods, grimacing, as unhappy about the situation as Eudora. “I know, but- oh, there’s Harris.”

He perks up as he notices Diego’s entry, rising out of his slumped position. Eudora reacts similarly, letting her pen drop since there’s no way she’s getting any work done now.

Diego winds his way with what is becoming a practised ease over to them, raising a hand in greeting. He spends far too much time here thanks to Klaus. It's becoming a problem. 

Eudora gives him a small smile in lieu of a verbal greeting, pushing the coffee to the edge of the desk as he approaches. “Here.”

“For me? Eudora, you shouldn’t have.” He scoops the cup up and takes a sip, grinning appreciatively. “Thanks.”

He is surprisingly cheerful, practically bouncing in place as he stands before them. Eudora watches him carefully, sharing a confused glance with Beaman.

Something’s wrong.

Diego is  _ too _ cheerful.

Eudora had ran out to buy the coffee because she’d expected him to be more distraught, more torn up over Klaus’ most recent crime. It would’ve been a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. This, though - it’s almost enough to make her think-

“Diego,” she says, slow and hesitant, “you know why Klaus is here, right?”

She expects the usual word-perfect answer, provided from the eternal fount of knowledge that is Diego Harris, but for the first time he subverts those expectations by shrugging and taking another sip of coffee. “I actually don’t, this time. I was away from the radio and missed that bit. Only caught the description.”

One part of that stands out in particular. “The radio?”

Diego barks a laugh. “Oh, nothing. Forget I said that.”

Eudora has no plans to forget he said that, but she allows him to continue regardless.

“So what did he do? Please say possession, possession would be  _ fantastic _ after last time.”

The panicked look Eudora and Beaman share is enough to partly clue him in and he groans. “Oh god, please don’t say he attacked someone again.”

Beaman drums his fingers on the desk. “Well, he- it- you see-”

“Solicitation,” Eudora cuts in. “It was solicitation.”

Diego freezes. “Solicitation.”

“Solicitation.”

“Was it a nice kind of solicitation? Something small, like shoplifting?” Diego brings his free hand up to wrap around the coffee cup, fingers interlocking in a tight embrace. The expression on his face shows that he isn’t expecting much.

Eudora hates that they have to dash what little hope he has. “It was the sexual favours kind of solicitation,” Beaman says with a grimace. “So, uh, no.”

“Well,” Diego sighs. “Shit.”

That sums the situation up nicely. From the moment Eudora and Beaman had seen Klaus being escorted into the precinct, from the moment they’d dragged an officer aside to find out why, they’d known this wasn’t going to be fun.

It’s one thing having physical consequences for Klaus’ escapades. It’s another entirely when those consequences become emotional, as they had done last time and are bound to do today.

Diego drops one hand, taps it against his leg, brings it back up to the cup and lets it fall again. He gestures wordlessly in the direction of the holding cells, and Eudora and Beaman both nod and stand to accompany him. They don’t offer a reason for it and Diego doesn’t ask for one.

When they step into the holding area, Klaus, seated cross-legged against the back wall of his cell, does not look up. He stares, blank and distant, through the bars, looking not at them, but through them. If it wasn’t for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, Eudora would think he was dead - a lifeless husk, lost amid a sea of criminals and convicts and courtesans.

She isn’t used to seeing Klaus so  _ still.  _ Klaus is like a puppy, full of a constant vigour and energy. Even when they’d first dealt with him back with that minor possession charge he’d been moving non-stop, and that had been while unconscious. Klaus and  _ still _ don’t go together, but it’s the only word Eudora can find to describe him now.

Recognising that they are not what Klaus wants or needs right now, Eudora and Beaman hover in the entrance, keeping their distance. Diego doesn’t hesitate to go to his friend, wrapping a hand around one of the bars as if that’ll get him closer than just standing beside it. “Klaus.”

Klaus doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. Sighing, Diego lowers himself to the floor, entering the same cross-legged position as Klaus. He places the coffee on the floor and nudges it through the bars. “Here.”

Eudora is a little torn between being offended that Diego has given up her gift so easily, and being touched at the kindness of the gesture. Klaus is less impressed, but it does earn a reaction; he blinks, glances briefly left, and settles his gaze on Diego. He doesn’t move for the coffee - doesn’t move from his spot at all. “Oh. Hi.”

There’s a long pause, one where Diego watches the other man with concern lining every tensed muscle in his body, where Eudora and Beaman turn to each other wondering whether they should do or say something and choose to continue with nothing, where Klaus fiddles with the frayed ends of his shirt before adding, in a quiet voice, “I guess you’re here to yell at me again.”

Diego recoils. “I don’t yell at you.” When Klaus sends him a look of disbelief, he amends, “Much.”

Klaus doesn’t say anything in reply, fingers wearing down the already-worn strands of his grime-coated shirt, so Diego tries again. “I don’t understand why.”

“Not all of us have the luxury of a roof over our heads each night,” is Klaus’ soft reply. “And someone-” (punctuated, inexplicably, by a glare to his left)- “was insistent we find one tonight.”

_ We?  _ Beaman mouths, brow furrowing. Eudora can only shrug.

People talk about themselves with plural pronouns, right? That’s a normal thing. There’s no cause for concern there.

(No cause other than Klaus talking to air and glaring at nothing, seeing and not seeing all at once. He can see ghosts. Maybe it’s the ghosts?

She hopes it’s not the ghosts. There’s some unfortunate implications there, since he’s clearly not  _ okay, _ and if it’s the ghosts then he must have been dealing with these issues for his whole life. That can’t be healthy.)

While Eudora ponders the pains of Klaus’ life, the conversation is moving on. “If you wanted a place to spend the night, why didn’t you come to me?” Diego asks. His features are twisted in an expression Eudora can’t quite name - it’s somewhat pained, with a sprinkling of confusion and a dash of sorrow. Few people can draw such vivid expressions as this from Diego - Eudora has seen more varied emotion from him when talking to Klaus than she did in the entire time they were dating.

Klaus shrugs, lowering his gaze to his lap and twisting his fingers together. “You were on the other side of town.”

“You could have called me! I’d have come and got you. You know I would have.”

Diego seems legitimately  _ hurt _ that Klaus didn’t consider him. Once again, Eudora has to wonder just how close the two men are, and what exactly their relationship is. He sounds like he’d expected to be called if needed, but Klaus, from Eudora’s admittedly limited arrest-based impressions, is a bit of a lone wolf, who could get shot ten times and would rather bleed out than ask for help.

“I didn’t want to drag you all the way out there late at night. You have a life. You have better things to do.”

“Klaus, you idiot, you’re more important than anything else I could have to do.” Klaus hums noncommittally in response, clearly disbelieving, so Diego, his desperation for Klaus to believe him expressed in the way he leans forward into the bars of the cell, carries on: “I always come pick you up from here, don’t I?”

“Um, for what it’s worth,” Eudora interjects, joining the conversation for the first time and trying not to flinch as three pairs of eyes turn on her, “we have never called Diego about you being here. He just knows. Shows up unprompted.”

“We don’t know how he does it,” Beaman adds in support, and Eudora shoots him a grateful glance. “He’s like some kind of arrest-sensing genie. It’s mad.”

Klaus blinks, surprise flickering across his features. “You… you do?”

Diego seems unsure whether to glare at Eudora and Beaman or thank them for the back-up. In the end, he decides on neither, and nods an answer to Klaus. “I have my ways, and they are never finding them out.”

“...it’s the police radio you have by your bed, isn’t it.”

“Traitor,” Diego hisses through a small smile as Eudora and Beaman gasp in horrified unison behind him.  _ That’s how he knows.  _ They will definitely need to confiscate that at some point, but at least they finally have  _ answers. _

The holding cells drift into a tense silence. Klaus shuffles a little closer, pulling away from the back wall and reaching a careful hand out to the forgotten coffee. Diego inches it closer, meeting him halfway. Eudora and Beaman make eye contact, debating whether to say something or to stay silent. They choose the latter. Diego or Klaus can break this silence. They can wait. Their paperwork isn’t  _ that  _ important.

It’s Diego who takes the plunge, after a solid minute or two have passed. “Have… have you done-” he gestures a wobbly circle-  _ “this  _ before?”

He seems unwilling to ask, and Klaus seems unwilling to answer. “Soliciting sexual favours for a bed?” he voices regardless, filling in the blanks, and Diego cringes and nods. Klaus smiles sadly. “You do whatever it takes to survive in this world, Diego. For me… this is it.”

“Fuck,” Diego breathes. 

_ Fuck,  _ Eudora echoes internally. This whole situation is messed up.

“You should have come to me,” Diego says, almost pleading. “I would have helped-”

“Would you?” Klaus snarls, suddenly ferocious, fingers stiffening around the coffee cup. “We literally only see each other when I get arrested. I spend the night at yours and that’s it until the next arrest!”

Diego swallows, the motion pronounced in his throat. Eudora has never seen him so vulnerable. “I would. If I’ve ev- ever made you think I wouldn’t, or if I ever  _ haven’t  _ helped you, then I’m sorry. But I would.  _ Please  _ call me if you need me.”

There’s a pause, where Klaus stares, stunned, at Diego, before the latter adds, “Are you actually sleeping on the streets?”

Klaus shrugs, uncertainty flitting onto his face. “Well, you know how it is.” His smile is lacking. “I find places to crash half the time. The other half...”

“Half.” Diego sucks in a harsh breath. “Okay, you’re sleeping on my couch.”

He cuts Klaus off as he starts to protest. “Non-negotiable. You’re staying with me as long as necessary. Forever, if that’s what it takes. Better that than… than the  _ alternative.” _

Eudora understands Diego’s desire to skirt around stating the issue. Klaus, however, has no such qualms. “Fucking my way into a bed?” he asks, resulting in Diego, Eudora and Beaman simultaneously grimacing. Klaus shoots a look sideways in a manner that is quickly becoming familiar, and he scowls at whatever (Eudora assumes a ghost) he finds there. “I’m used to it. It’s no big deal.”

“No big-  _ Jesus,  _ Klaus. You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

The guilt seeping into Diego’s tone is increasingly evident. Eudora is glad that today is a quiet day; the only other inhabitants of the holding cells are drunk and passed out, unable to witness what is an incredibly personal and private conversation.

It strikes her that she and Beaman probably shouldn’t be witnessing it either, but it’s too late to back out now. Besides, they’ve been run ragged physically and emotionally by the pair sitting crossed-legged on opposite sides of the bars, so she thinks they deserve some closure too.

(Mainly, she’s viciously curious, and far too invested in this unfolding saga, as bad as she feels about that fact. Diego and Klaus have woven such an intriguing pattern into the mundane fabric of her daily life, and she longs to learn more.)

There’s a long moment of silence. Diego threads a hand through the bars of the cell, palm up, and rests it on the cool stone floor. Klaus watches it like a startled mouse, before eventually stretching his own hand out and interlocking his fingers with Diego’s.

“You know I love you, right?”

It’s Diego that speaks, yet again the one to break the silence.

Klaus runs one thumb along the ridges of the coffee cup, considering. He shrugs, blinks rapidly, and slowly lets himself smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

After a second he adds, “I love you too. And, thanks, I guess. For-” he gestures with the coffee- “all of this. It- yeah. Thanks.”

Beaman’s elbow finds its way into Eudora’s side, completely ruining the moment, and she glares at her partner.  _ Love,  _ he mouths, excitement and giddy glee clear on his face, and Eudora rolls her eyes.

_ Platonic,  _ she mouths back.  _ Calm down. _

For a lover, Diego had been remarkably calm about the revelation that Klaus had been cheating on him. Admittedly, there were bigger issues, but the reaction makes Eudora believe that they’re not actually lovers after all.

What they  _ are, _ though, she still can’t say for sure.

Beaman’s too caught up in his romantic fantasies, however, so she doesn’t bother to point this out to him.

Speaking of Beaman, her partner coughs, drawing the attention of both Diego and Klaus. “Uh, if you can move, Diego,” he says, tone apologetic, “then I can unlock the cell and you can both go.”

Diego blinks up at him. “You could have unlocked this at any time?”

“I can go?” Klaus asks at the same time, surprise filtering into his tone.

“If you agree to rehab then yes,” Eudora answers the second question, pointedly avoiding Diego’s. He has a point; this conversation absolutely did not have to happen through bars, and she does wish they’d realised that a lot sooner.

“He will,” Diego promises, and he glares at Klaus when the other man opens his mouth - hopefully not to argue, because this is a good deal, far better than the alternative of prison.

With a certain reluctance, Diego unwinds his fingers, withdrawing through the bars. He stands, getting out of the way for Beaman to take his place. Klaus doesn’t bother moving, but wraps both hands around the cup of coffee as if seeking warmth from what has surely long gone cold.

As soon as the door swings open, Diego brushes past Beaman to get inside, diving straight for Klaus. He is gentle as he pulls the other man to his feet, making sure he is stable before stepping back to give him space. Eudora notes that his hand remains on Klaus’ arm throughout.

The group of four - and what a strange group they are: two cops, their weird friend and his weirder junkie friend - make their way to the main body of the precinct. They don’t talk. Eudora would compare it to a funeral march, except there’s no funeral, and they’re not marching.

“What time is it?” Beaman asks wearily as they emerge, pressing his palms into his eyes. Diego and Klaus pull away, whispering to each other in a tone low enough that Eudora doesn’t bother exerting herself to eavesdrop.

Eudora quickly checks the clock, since Beaman is apparently incapable of doing so himself. “Just past two.”

“What?”

Eudora and Beaman both turn to look at Diego, who has broken from his conversation and is watching them carefully. Letting his hands drop back to his side, Beaman hesitantly echoes, “Uh, what?”

“Not you,” Klaus says to Diego, patting him on the back with a patronising hand that Diego quickly shakes off. “They meant the time.”

Diego blinks, an odd expression settling over his face. “Oh. Right. Never mind.”

Awkwardness settles over them, where they watch each other uncertainly. Finally, Diego breaks it by saying, “Uh, so, can we go now?”

“Right,” Eudora says. “Yes. You can. Bye?”

Beaman says his own goodbyes and Diego nods. He offers a tentative wave. “Bye,” he echoes.

Klaus waves too, more exuberantly, the coffee he still has threatening to spill. He’s cheered up a lot since he got out of the cell. Then, as quickly as they always arrive, they are gone.

“Well,” Beaman says, watching their retreating form. “That was strange.”

That’s an understatement, Eudora would say, but they are both becoming far too accustomed to the weirdness of Diego and Klaus, so she brushes it off as one of those awkward misunderstandings in life.

(Diego’s reaction  _ was  _ weird, though - it was like he’d been personally addressed, when all Eudora had done was state the time.)

On top of that, she didn’t want to begin unpacking all that had gone on in the holding cells. Too much emotion, too much complexity, not enough coffee.

“We’ve seen stranger from him,” is what she does say, which is very true. Diego Harris is a strange man, and yet somehow his friends (read: Klaus) are stranger.

“True,” Beaman sighs, and then perks up all in the same motion, which is vaguely terrifying to witness. “Hey, want to take bets on what Klaus will get arrested for next time?”

“We really shouldn’t,” Eudora grumbles, “given the serious nature of the last few times.”

She puts herself down for possession regardless.


	6. +1. Carrying an Offensive Weapon

They’ve both lost the bet. It isn’t Klaus they’ve arrested.

“So,” Eudora opens with as she enters the holding area. “You don’t officially exist.”

Diego barks a laugh, not the slightest bit surprised at the statement Eudora’s tone morphs into an accusation. “That’s a bit cruel. I clearly do exist. ” He rests one arm on the bars of the holding cells he’s incarcerated within and leans forward in a blatant challenge.

Eudora crosses her arms and meets it head-on. “Not as Diego Harris.”

He concedes this with a gracious nod. “That may have something to with that not actually being my name.”

“Why?” she shoots. She’s had enough of Diego’s lies; of his skirting around topics and his vague answers. Discovering he’s lied about something as simple as his  _ name  _ is the final straw.

“Most of us don’t get to choose our name,  _ Eudora,”  _ he says, and she bristles. “I just… didn't want all the hassle that would come with people knowing who I actually am.”

“We were in a relationship,” is her slow, hurt reply, because she  _ is  _ hurt, and she thinks that hurt is justified. “I’d have hoped you could trust me enough to share things like your  _ name.” _

He does wince at that, which at least shows some guilt. “It’s a complicated situation.”

Eudora grits her teeth. “Complicated how, Harris?” she asks, spreading her arms wide in an obvious question. “Diego,” she amends after a moment. “Is Diego even your name? How much did you lie about?”

“Diego is my name, Harris is not. I actually lied about very little besides that. I… omitted.” Diego sighs, looking aged by this conversation, and Eudora refuses to feel bad about that. “Look, you were an Umbrella Academy fan, right? What were their names?”

She gives him a look that she hopes conveys how stupid and irrelevant she finds the question, but Diego doesn’t back down. He seems serious. “Humour me.”

Eudora wasn’t obsessed or anything, but she’d been fond enough to memorise their names in her youth, and so, hesitantly, as Diego watches expectantly, she starts to list them. “Uh, there was Klaus, obviously, and Allison. Six was Ben, one of them was Luther… Two was- oh. Oh, for fuck’s sake, no. You can’t be serious.”

“There you go,” Diego smiles. It’s not a happy smile - more resigned, tinged with bitterness, and if Eudora wasn’t too busy feeling shell-shocked because  _ oh, that explains so much  _ she might worry more about that reaction.

She’d wondered, hadn’t she? About Diego’s use of  _ us  _ and _ we,  _ implying a familiarity with Klaus, Ben, and the Umbrella kids’ childhoods that she’d struggled to reconcile with what she knew of the man. And then- he’d responded when she said the number two last time, did he?  _ Two,  _ his number, his  _ name,  _ which explains why he’d been so uncomfortable calling Klaus  _ Number Four, _ and-

Eudora is an idiot.

“You’re not lovers,” she says, slow and dumb-founded. “You’re brothers.”

Diego blinks. “Lovers?” he echoes, the bitterness giving way to confusion.

“Holy hell, you’re Number Two,” says Beaman from somewhere behind Eudora. She doesn’t know when he arrived, but he’s just in time for the revelation, and when Eudora turns she finds he brought a friend.

“Diego,” Klaus sings, literally leaping down the last few steps. He fumbles the landing, stumbling forward, and Eudora instinctively throws out a hand to steady him. “Thanks,” he says with a wink, and Eudora quickly withdraws. She’s too busy processing to respond. “Diego, my dear brother, look at this! Isn’t this a fun little role reversal? It’s almost-” he breaks off with a giggle and a sideways glance at thin air. “It’s almost like fate, don’t you think?”

Diego, for his part, rests his head against the iron bars with a groan. “Shut up, Klaus. Why are you here?”

Klaus gasps, affronted, and takes an exaggerated step back. “Such cruel treatment, after we walked all the way here to say hi!”

“It’s not like we knew anyone else we could contact,” Beaman says over Diego’s muttered curses. He passes a mug of coffee to Eudora - the tasteless sludge from the break room, which is a shock to tastebuds used to Diego supplying higher quality - and takes a quick sip from a second. “But go back - you’re a Hargreeves? You’re  _ that  _ Diego?”

Diego nods morosely, eyes sliding closed. Klaus frowns. “Wait, you two didn’t know?”

“No!” Eudora hisses, gaze darting frantically between Diego and his  _ brother,  _ his super-powered  _ brother,  _ his Umbrella Academy  _ brother,  _ how did she never know this?!

_ (Because Diego hadn’t told her, because Diego didn’t want her to know, because Diego didn’t  _ trust _ her.) _

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Diego sighs. “Didn’t want… all this.”

He gestures to Eudora and Beaman as he speaks. Eudora is currently experiencing a bit of a breakdown, and she can only hope that fact is not too evident on her face.

Beaman seems no better off. “You’re Diego  _ Hargreeves,” _ he says quietly, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in the comical epitome of shock. “You’re actually one of them.”

Diego points at him as if to say  _ see? that.  _ Eudora supposes that’s fair, and forces her own dropped jaw shut.

“Wait, so you’re telling me,” Klaus begins, clapping his hands together in a rush of excitement, “that you knew about me, your friend’s brother, being a member of the Umbrella Academy, but not about your friend being in it?”

“We didn’t know you were brothers,” Beaman replies, still sounding dazed. “You never said.”

“Next of kin can mean a lot of things,” Eudora tosses out in support, equally dazed and lost.

Diego eyes her. “Yeah, so, on that topic, what was that you said about lovers?”

"Nothing," Beaman says too quickly. "She said absolutely nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Lovers in the brotherly sense, obviously."

The looks Diego and Klaus (even Klaus, that's humiliating) send him speak volumes. Eudora sighs and takes over. "Yes, okay, we thought your relationship was a tad more romantic than it actually is. Our bad."

"You did give off that vibe, though!" Beaman interjects, still failing to help the situation in any way. "With your closeness and your touchy-feely thing and- and you said you loved each other! Can you blame us for betting on lovers?"

Eudora drops her head into her hands with a groan. 

The resignation that had pervaded Diego's attitude has been replaced by bafflement. "Familial love, you absolute- wait, you bet?" 

"You bet!" Klaus cheers, jumping gleefully on the spot. "Who won? And what did you bet? If it wasn't drugs, then, well, that's just a wasted opportunity. Unless it was money you intended to spend on drugs, of course."

Diego hisses something to his  _ brother _ about not saying things like that in a precinct, which is rich coming from the man in the cell. 

"We both won and we both lost," Eudora admits through her palms. "No drugs were involved, other than through Klaus. I am so sorry."

"You are detectives," Diego deadpans, apparently deciding not to bother commenting further on the betting. "It is literally your job to figure things out."

"I have never felt worse at my job," Eudora agrees mournfully. 

A grin is spreading on Klaus’ face, and Eudora cannot help but feel nervous at the sight. “Aww, but you really thought me and Diego-? That’s adorable, you hear that, Diego? You and me!”

“Rot in hell,” Diego informs him through gritted teeth. “I’d take Luther over you.”

“Please,” Klaus scoffs. “You’d rather die.”

The face Diego pulled immediately after making his claim proves that Klaus is right. Luther, Luther - that’s another one of the Hargreeves? One of Diego’s  _ brothers _ because Diego is also a Hargreeves and, okay, this still hasn’t sunk in.

“So,” Klaus begins to ask, once again cutting Eudora’s spiral of shock off before it can truly get going. “What did you do to end up here, oh brother of mine?”

Diego scowls at the floor. Eudora goes to answer in his place but breaks off with a gasp because  _ “Knives,  _ oh my God, that’s why you’re obsessed with knives!”

“He… he was arrested for being obsessed with knives?”

Diego raises an eyebrow at Eudora. “I seriously cannot believe you two didn’t figure this out earlier. I’m starting to realise that I wasn’t subtle.”

“I have learnt,” Beaman announces with a regal air, “that Patch and I are shit at our jobs.  _ Knives.  _ You couldn’t have been more obvious.”

“Great, okay,” Klaus claps his hands, regaining the group’s attention. “Knives. Diego does love him some knives. How did lead to us being on the wrong side of the bars?”

Diego scowls. “Neither of us should be on this side of the bars.”

Klaus spreads his hands helplessly.  _ That doesn’t answer my question, _ his posture screams.

“He had twenty knives on him,” Beaman provides, taking pity on the man.

“That you found,” Diego murmurs in an undertone, which Eudora elects to ignore.

Klaus grins, scanning over his  _ brother’s!  _ body with a practised eye. “Just twenty? I can already see five more.”

Eudora ignores that, too. She can only handle so much in one day, and she has already gone so far past that limit that she’s lapped it.

And, honestly, this shouldn’t be such a shock. Diego, as Klaus so aptly put it,  _ loves him some knives.  _ She’s always known his preference for them, and how he always carries an unhealthynumber of them. His skill has saved his skin (and hers) more than once in the past. Thinking back, Eudora can remember times when something seemed  _ off  _ about a throw from Diego, but she’d always pushed the thoughts aside.

This is just one more blatantly obvious hint to his true identity, piled high atop the wobbly stack of equally poorly-hidden clues. All that stack needed was the slightest nudge to send it toppling over. Apparently, for Eudora, a goddamn  _ detective,  _ that “slightest nudge” was Diego literally spelling it out for her.

She really is bad at her job. Eudora cannot help but reconsider her life choices, just a little.

While she’s been wallowing in self-pity, Klaus has kept talking. He’s very good at talking, Eudora has learnt. “Everyone else likes to punch things,” he is saying as she tunes back in. “Especially Luther, who also liked throwing things around with his stupid strength - so unfair - and Ben, I guess, who, y’know,” he forms an outward explosion motion with his hands, level with his stomach,  _ “blargle-blarg,  _ tentacles and shit. But Diego’s always been good with his knives. He can knock someone out before Luther’s even had time to throw a chair.”

“Oh man,” Beaman squeals, quite literally bouncing with excitement. “I have got to see this in action.”

“Dude. Really?”

“Yes! Does anybody have a knife?”

“Not that you can prove,” Diego answers, proving that he does.

Eudora decides to ignore him. Besides Diego, she thinks the request is ridiculous, and says as much. “No-one’s going to have-”

“I have one!”

She cuts off mid-sentence as a new voice enters the conversation. She turns, slowly, in sync with Beaman, Diego and Klaus, to the man leaning against the bars of his cell for support as he pulls a knife out of his sock. “Here!”

“Who searched you?” Eudora says, bewildered, as Beaman hesitantly accepts the proffered weapon and passes it to Diego.

The man shrugs. “I wasn’t searched. They just shoved me in here. I was waiting for you to leave so I could try and pick the lock with it, or something. I don’t know. This, though - this is worth the sacrifice.”

All Eudora can think to say is a lost little,  _ “What?” _

“I respect that,” Klaus says, pointing at the man for emphasis.

The man turns to address Diego and Klaus. “And can I just say that I’m a  _ huge  _ fan. I always used to imagine fighting against you guys. You were a huge inspiration.”

Klaus drops his hand. “I don’t respect that.”

“The  _ huge fan  _ or the criminal activity?” Diego asks under his breath.

His brother  _ \- brother! -  _ flutters a hand. “Eh, mainly the former. The latter’s a nice  _ fuck you  _ to dear old dad. We-” he breaks off into a fit of giggles. “We inspired what he sought to destroy.”

This brings a small smile to Diego’s face. “Huh, I guess we did.” To the strange knife man, he adds, “Thanks, I think.”

Well, that raises some questions about Diego and Klaus’ childhood, and their (apparently sour) relationship with their father. Eudora is able to respect social boundaries to some degree, however, and avoids asking them.

“Throw the knife,” Beaman interrupts before the man can respond, clearly lacking such respect. “Knife knife knife knife knife.”

Diego rolls his eyes as Eudora hisses at her partner, because  _ really, Beaman?  _ He takes the knife anyway, twirls it once, neatly, with practised precision, and sends it flying with a sharp flick of his wrist.

The knife flies to Diego’s left, skimming past the shirt of the man who provided it (who, to his credit, only lets out a slight squeal) before slowing, taking the laws of physics in its iron grip and crushing them one-handed as it turns and races back the way it came. It plants itself dead-centre in a poster advising against vigilantism.

It’s just like the boy Eudora used to watch on TV, and read about in her comics.

Beaman whistles appreciatively. Klaus offers a single, unamused clap.

“Good enough?” Diego asks, crossing his arms in a manner that screams of discontent.

“So cool,” the knife’s owner gushes after taking a moment to inspect his shirt for damage. “Can I get my knife back now?”

“No,” is all Eudora says as she yanks it out of the poster. She passes it to Beaman - who frowns down at it and shoves it into his belt as a temporary measure - and takes a sip from her coffee, only to recoil at the slushy, lukewarm mess that meets her lips. Right; she’s become so used to Diego bringing them nice coffee that she’d forgotten this cup contained mud. “Ugh, Beaman, why did you get coffee from the break room? We could have gotten the good stuff out of Diego again.”

Beaman holds up his hands defensively. “Hey, don’t blame me. I got these cups from Klaus.”

There’s a long pause. Slowly, in a strange synchronicity, three heads turn on Klaus.

The man shrugs under the scrutiny. “I figured it’s the standard bribe around here, so I snuck in before I found you two to get some.” A small grin plays at the corners of his mouth, and he glances to the side - a movement Eudora is becoming familiar with. “Gotta admit, I’m not used to being on the providing end of the bribe. Usually I’m the reason the bribery is necessary in the first place.”

“It’s not bribery,” Eudora splutters, knowing her argument is weak and pointless.

Diego frowns. “You literally just suggested bribing coffee out of me. We all know exactly what’s going on here, and what’s going on is bribery.”

“That doesn’t mean you should admit it!”

“Did it work?” Klaus jumps in before they can get too sidetracked. At the three confused looks he receives, he continues, “Will Diego get off lightly because I brought you coffee?”

“No!” Eudora exclaims, aghast.

“Eh, sure,” Beaman says at the same time. “We never intended to formally charge him anyway.”

Eudora slaps him. “Oh my God,” she says, which she thinks is a rather good summary of her current mental state. “We cannot keep helping you two like this.”

“Oh, don’t worry, this will be the last time.” Klaus grins, somewhat ferally, and adopts the tone of someone talking to a young child. “You’ll never do this again, will you, Diego? You’ve really learnt your lesson this time, haven’t you?”

“Piss off, Klaus,” Diego snarls as Beaman barks a laugh. “We all know I’m not abandoning my knives.”

_ We’re in a precinct, remember,  _ Eudora restrains from saying, because what even is the point anymore. They’ve all said worse.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Klaus says, ditching the voice but clinging to his insincere grin. “You ditch the knives, and I’ll ditch the drugs. I’m sure our friends here would love us for that.”

A brief flash of something - hope? - darts across Diego’s face, but is gone as quickly as it arrived. “We both know you wouldn’t,” he says through a sombre smile, and  _ wow,  _ okay, that’s a bit of a mood change.

An awkward pause settles in the holding area, one where Diego and Klaus -  _ brothers,  _ that’s really going to take some getting used to - share a look too full of meaning for the others present to comprehend fully, but what little Eudora can glean is full of sadness: regret and wishfulness. The stillness is only broken when, after an uncomfortable glance at his partner, Beaman steps forward to let Diego out of the cell.

“Seriously?” Diego says, breaking eye-contact with Klaus to turn a glare on Beaman. “You could have let me out at any time,  _ again?” _

“Um,” Beaman eloquently responds. “Yes?”

“And you  _ didn’t?” _

“Hey,” Klaus cuts in, “if I get to spend far too much time sitting in a cell, it’s only fair that you get to experience it too, right?” He glances left. “Right!”

“We had other things to focus on,” Eudora adds to the discussion, coming to her partner’s defense. “Like, you know, your non-existence. Makes it rather difficult to charge a man when you can’t find his records.”

Diego at least has the good graces to wince. “Oh, yeah. Right. That.” The reminder that the secret of his identity is out sobers him a little.

“The benefits,” Beaman grunts as he wrestles the stiff cell door open, “is that it’s a good excuse not to charge a friend.”

Diego smiles slightly in acknowledgement, takes one step out of his cell and stops dead, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Can  _ I _ have my knives back then? As a friend?”

“No!”

“We’ll slip them to you once you’re out the door.”

Eudora sighs, resigned. “Fine, yes, we’ll slip them to you, Harris- shit.” She switches to an undertone. “Hargreeves? No, that sounds so wrong. Diego?”

“Diego’s fine,” the man in question offers, as if Eudora hasn’t called him by that name multiple times during his (too many) visits to the precinct, and even before, when things weren’t so stilted between them, before things went wrong in their relationship.

“Diego,” she reaffirms. Somehow it still sits strange upon her tongue.

“Klaus is fine for me too,” Klaus says, after spending some time focused on the empty air beside him. “In case anyone wanted to include me in this lovely little bonding moment. Hargreeves is just- ew. Too _dad,_ you know what I mean?”

Eudora does not. Diego’s sympathetic grimace implies that he does.

It’s an awkward journey back up to the main area of the precinct -  _ awkward  _ seems to be the defining theme of all interactions between the four of them. Klaus keeps up a constant stream of chatter, mostly directed at his brother, but with the occasional curveballs tossed at Beaman and Eudora.

When they reach their desks, Beaman pulls a draw open and swaps the single knife for a bag full of Diego’s unique brand. “Here,” he says, handing them over, as if this mildly-illegal transaction isn’t taking place in broad daylight, surrounded by police officers in the middle of a precinct.

Her partner has the self-preservation instincts of a spider crawling closer to a severe arachnophobe with a rolled-up newspaper.

Eudora sips her coffee exhaustedly, scowls down at it as the taste hits, and slips it into the bin when she’s sure Klaus isn’t looking. Somehow he still knows to shoot her a wounded glance a few seconds later.

“Thanks,” Diego is saying, “for- well, for a lot. You didn’t have to help us this much.”

“It would be lovely if you continued with the helping, though,” Klaus adds, far too loudly for Eudora’s liking, given the topic of discussion. “Wow, Diego, when you joined the Police Academy way back when, I had no idea it would come back around to benefit us so much.”

“It’s because they used to be together,” Beaman scoffs, gesturing between Diego and Eudora and ignoring the glare she shoots at the back of his skull in response. “She’s still soft for him, despite… everything.”

Klaus’ eyes widen comically as he takes this in, looking from Diego to Eudora to the crowd off to the side and back to Diego. “You two-”

“You didn’t know?” Eudora asks, genuinely caught off guard.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Diego says hurriedly, grabbing Klaus by the arm and dragging him towards the exit. “Thanks again, guys. Klaus, don’t you dare, shut your mouth,  _ Klaus.” _

Beaman leans into Eudora’s personal space as they watch the brothers depart, arguing as they go. “So,” he drawls. “Diego. You and him. Would you again?”

She hits him, then once more for good measure. “Shut up,” is the best response she’s got. Beaman’s resulting laugh tells her it was enough of an answer for him.

Her relationship with Diego isn’t like  _ that,  _ not anymore. It’s definitely improved, though - in leaps and bounds since he first came in to pick up the then-nameless junkie. Some of the tension is gone, and while awkwardness remains, the fondness from their academy days seeped back in while she wasn’t paying attention.

As the siblings disappear out the door, she comes to the conclusion that the messes Klaus (and, this time, Diego) created haven’t been all bad, despite the risks to her career.

If nothing else, she’s learnt more about Diego. A lot more. She doesn’t hate him anymore, either. That, in her books, is a win.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Meet the Hargreeves Siblings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18717478) by [AmyR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyR/pseuds/AmyR)




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